33. The Prince of Thorns
The Prince of Thorns
Is there anything sweeter than the thrill of the hunt?
Oh, yes. Yes. Yes. Basking in the spoils. That is sweetest of all.
I lie on my side atop a perch I crafted of briars, just high enough that I can watch the entire parade. With one finger, I swirl the violet wine in my goblet, barely able to take my eyes off my trophy for a sip.
A procession of goblins, trolls, and fae caterwaul as they dance down the street. Shadows hop over the buildings from the swinging torches and gemlight lamps they carry. Someone’s pounding a drum while another blows on a bone horn, the two sounds in complete dissonance.
And at the back, the hero of Winter pulls at his chains like a rabid beast.
I sit up and run a tongue over my top lip.
The parade has not been kind to him. His clothes have been torn, leaving him fully bare besides a pair of ragged shorts.
His muscles ripple beneath bruises and filth.
On the sidelines, citizens jeer at him, though some make obscene gestures. A troll woman flashes her breasts.
Shadowed by his matted hair, its usual starlight-white now streaked with dirt, his eyes flash with rage.
A beast, through and through, but a calculating one.
Given his power—like all the high rulers—originates from Castletree, his magic is lessened down here.
But I’m sure if he was so motivated, he’d see the entire city covered in a blizzard.
Yet he’s not fighting back.
Perhaps he thinks this is the only way he’ll get to see my precious Flower.
I cannot wait to break him.
Leaping down from my perch, I await the end of the parade. We’re at the southeastern corner of Cryptgarden. No usual prison for my pet. Oh no.
I want everyone to be able to come and gaze upon the High Prince of Winter. Witness this great and powerful man brought low. To the Vale, he was the Sworn Protector of the Realms, but I always knew he had the heart of a beast. And this is where beasts belong.
With a flick of my cape, I walk beneath the wrought iron sign that reads MENAGERIE.
Two stone walls creep in on either side of me. Old stone covered in luminescent moss squishes under my boots. The air smells like honey and blood. A shiver runs up my spine as I suddenly realize how many eyes are on me. Not the creatures in the procession following me but the ones in the cages.
Rows and rows of bone cages infused with obsidian flank the path through the menagerie.
Pathetic roars and howls sound around me.
A small gryphon huddles in the corner of a cage, its wings clipped, coat dulled from bronze to beige.
A pure-white stag paces in another, its antlers so big for the enclosure, it must keep its head permanently bowed.
Behind the cages, there’s a tiny glass aquarium where a siren keeps her pink tail coiled.
This tank is so much smaller than the one she’s shown in when it’s time for her to perform.
I square my shoulders and keep my gaze forward. I don’t enjoy looking at them, these sad, pathetic creatures. Miserable about their own existences. So what? We’re all caged here.
Straight ahead lies the end of the menagerie: a steep drop-off down into the depths.
Right on the edge sits a small cage, six feet by six feet, the bars double infused.
The zookeeper stands beside it, a fae man who could honestly be mistaken for a ghoul for how ashen his skin is, how loosely it hangs from his bones.
His eyes are dark caverns, but they gleam with delight.
He offers me a delighted smile, his one tooth barely hanging by a thread, as he opens the cage door. “What an offering for my collection, my prince!”
I don’t acknowledge him. Instead, I spread my arms out as if welcoming Keldarion to a beautiful home.
This is what I wanted all those decades ago. For Keldarion to be at home with me.
He never could.
So I’ll take away his option. He’ll stay here, behind bars, trapped with me forever.
I notice the zookeeper has not taken the liberty of cleaning out the cage from its last inhabitant. The obsidian floor is covered in blood and filth.
Good. Let Keldarion know what happens to the beautiful and wild things when they fall.
The procession spreads out, forming a ring around the cage as Keldarion is dragged forward. His wrists are bound by steel manacles, held on a lead by a troll. The ugly creature gives a tug, and Keldarion falls to his knees, eliciting a chorus of laughter from the surrounding creatures.
But I’m not disappointed. Kel’s shoulders shift, the muscles tensing in his legs and bare feet. He bursts up, tearing his lead out of the troll’s hands. The chain clatters to the ground. Keldarion turns to run—
My briar pins the chain in place.
“Naughty, naughty. I see we chose appropriately.” I gesture to the enclosure. “A cage for a wild animal.”
Keldarion seems intent on proving me right, letting loose a beastly roar as it takes a trio of trolls to wrestle him into the cage. The zookeeper locks the door with a satisfied click.
Without waiting a moment, Kel spins, grabbing the bars with his bound hands. His eyes find mine. My first instinct is to look away, but I hold his gaze. Why not?
I have nothing to fear from Keldarion, High Prince of Winter. He is mine now.
“Listen to me, Cas,” he says, voice raw, hurried. “This isn’t you. This is the Green Flame. The baron’s using you like he used Farron! Fight it!”
I can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out of me. “You are a fool. You dare equate me with that pathetic princeling? You are as stupid as you are trapped.”
How could I expect Kel to understand? My father will offer anyone anything if it means getting what he wants. If Farron thinks he is of any importance to Malekai, it is because he has been deceived. Just as my mother has.
She has no idea that when her usefulness is up and my father steps into our world fully, completely, she will be his first casualty.
Though I suppose maybe Kel should understand this. Betrayal.
He was so good at doing it to me.
“Caspian!”
A voice rings out from behind me. I turn to see Rosalina gliding through the circle. All eyes of the procession follow her, not even attempting to hide their lustful gazes. But they know, just like the beast in the cage, she is mine.
“What’s going on?” she asks calmly. I can tell she’s doing her best to seem composed, to play the part of lovely little thrall for the onlookers, but her cheeks are bright red, her voice a near pant. She’s been running. Sprinting, even.
With a sweet smile, she takes my arm, feigning that look of love as she gazes up at me. So tricksy, my future queen.
“A new prisoner?” she asks and looks to the cage.
And this is where her acting can only get her so far.
For in that moment, when she and Kel catch eyes, every truth in her shines through. Horror. Grief. Fear.
Love.
Love so deep and endless, it threatens to drown me.
A chill whistles between my ribs. She will never truly belong to me as long as he lives.
I look to Keldarion, gazing upon her as if she were every star in the sky. I could do it, and no one would question me. Kill him right now. Destroy the High Prince of Winter with a single blow.
Loving you was as easy as the first fall of snow.
I shake my head. But how could I cull such a wonderful new addition to the collection? I will keep him here, my pet. Mine.
Rosalina tears her gaze from Kel and grabs my arm. Her nails bite into my flesh, unnoticeable to anyone else but sharp and painful. “What is this place?” she hisses under her breath. “It’s horrible. You would hate this.”
“Beautiful things hate the dark,” I answer back. “So this is where we keep them until they learn to love it.”
She bares her teeth in rage. My own little beasty. “Set them free. All of them. Kel included.”
“I can’t do that, Princess.” I yank out of her grip and stride away from the cage, waving a dismissive hand. “Enjoy your new abode, Keldarion. Tomorrow, you and I will play. And I will teach you the true meaning of pain.”